Streaks of Grey
by Winter Jackson
Summary: Three of the Seven are dead, Jason is in a coma, and Percy is shouldering half of both camps with the help of Reyna and Annabeth...it's no wonder he regained his grey streak. And Percy needs some time alone, and some hope. T for character death. Oneshot.


Slowly, slowly, Percy walked towards Zeus's Fist. Though with the recent explosions and the collapse of the Labyrinth, along with Briares throwing those boulders, it didn't look much like a fist anymore, from any direction. The grass was yellow, and the air still reeked of Greek Fire induced explosions. And death.

Eyes sad, Percy sat down carefully on a boulder, his normally happy, sea-green eyes dark and sad and haunted. He felt old all of a sudden: fragile and scarred. Percy looked at the palm of his left hand; the old astrick-shaped scar was overridden with newer ones, thicker ones. Somehow, Percy doubted that the astrick would ever go away, not in his mind, anyway. There was no way he'd ever forget about Luke. Even freshly at the Roman camp, he'd subconsciously remembered him in Octavian, not only in looks, but also in personality. But the difference was that Luke fought against the gods for a reason, a reason that Percy honored him in, whereas Octavian simply wanted power.

So many memories of this place. The flag was set here in Percy's first game of Capture-the-Flag. Many times it was set here in Capture-the-Flag, also when Percy and Beckendorf fought a deranged Festus when he was in dragon form. This was the place where he and Annabeth and Grover stopped looking for Nico when he first ran away from Camp. This was the place where he and Annabeth first fell into the Labyrinth. This was the place of the Battle of the Labyrinth. This was the place where Nico summoned the dead. This was the place where the campers defended themselves against the invading Romans.

And now this was the place where campers, Hunters, and Romans alike honored old and fallen friends.

Percy swallowed back a sob. There was only four of the Seven alive now, and only three conscious. Leo had sacrificed himself to shut the Doors, Frank's stick burnt out in battle, and Hazel went crazy after his death, burning her very soul out with how many jewels, ingots, silver, gold, platinum, schist, turquoise, and hundreds of other precious metals that crushed the monster army and left their friends completely untouched. Jason had nearly followed her after Piper had been eaten whole by a drakon. Piper had sliced the monster to dust from the inside, but Jason exhausted himself by making himself a second Eagle, and had been unconscious since.

Percy buried his head in his hands, silent tears leaking through his fingers. So many of his friends were gone. Jake Mason from the Hephaestus cabin had died, Will Solace was dead, along with Miranda Gardinier (Demeter), Lou Ellen (Hecate), Clovis (Hypnos), Lacy (Aphrodite), and Sherman (Ares). Clarisse, like Jason, was in a coma from blood loss. A Roman had speared her from behind while she was engaged with three others. It unnerved Percy to see her so still and expressionless. The big girl was always on the move and nearly always had a sneer on her face.

The ground had been inlaid with hundreds upon hundreds of pieces of black granite. It was a demigod version of the Veteran's Memorial, holding the memory everyone who died in the wars forever. People tried to keep the names of the demigods in order, like who died first. Thalia Grace was the first, followed by Bianca di Angelo, Zoe Nightshade, Daedalus, and countless others. All of the names, the day they died, and perhaps a quote from a friend of the person. Several had private memories written on a sheets of paper and sealed in an airtight box under the stone. It was a place where people could reminisce and cry and not be judged. Even Percy, feeling the weight of the burden, had knelt at the Seven's stones and openly sobbed his heart out after the war was over and peace reigned between the Romans and Greeks.

_Leo Valdez—July 31, 2010—Trust me on this, you were annoying and terrifying when you were on a dozen cups of coffee, but you're a genius, Leo. Festus misses you.-Annabeth Chase_

_Frank Zhang—August 1, 2010—Your Grandmother and Mom would be proud. Clarisse will be, I know.-Piper McLean_

_Hazel Levesque—August 1, 2010—You outdid yourself in your second chance, little sister.-Nico di Angelo_

Percy knelt softly at his friends' memorials. Piper was right, Clarisse would be proud to claim Frank as her half-brother. Percy was fairly sure that if they hadn't been attacking Camp Half-Blood, she would've liked the Romans' way of doing things. Or if they hadn't speared her from behind. Octavian, that slimy little weasel, had been banished from the camps, and since the Romans only had the general idea of where Olympus was, they weren't too worried about Octavian actually finding Olympus.

But that wasn't the point. Octavian had done two attempted murders, one on Gwen who'd come back to life, the other on Clarisse, who'd lived but was in a coma. And all he got was banishment? He'd driven the rift between the Romans and Greeks farther apart and made the Seven's life nearly infinitely harder. Percy wasn't normally one to push the execution, but the power-hungry snake and been a dagger in the Seven's sides. And Octavian, unfortunately, was still able to cause trouble within the camps even if he wasn't physically there.

It frustrated Percy to no end, and Percy already practically had the weight of the world on his shoulders. More disputes between the Greeks and Romans could lead to a full-out Civil war, which wasn't exactly the best thing either camp needed. He'd regained the grey streak in his hair from his stress of keeping the camps from being at each other's throats and having three close friends die right in front of him, not to mention building the pyre for all the fallen, helping Annabeth reconstruct Camp Half-Blood and Olympus, keeping tabs on the news to make sure demigod stuff wasn't found by the mortals, and overall running both camps with the help of a girl on either side. Both were very strong-willed and the demigods under them respected them greatly, but it still wasn't enough. Percy didn't even had the peace and quiet he wanted in his cabin.

So he came here, where it was taboo to disturb anyone seeking sanctuary from others, to immerse themselves in memories or just to enjoy the peace. For Percy it was a little bit of both.

"Percy?" Grover said softly.

"Yes?" Percy said, knowing Grover was one who he could lose composer with and not have him freak out. He wiped the tears off his face and straightened his shoulders.

"Clarisse's woken up," Grover said, smiling ruefully.

Percy stared at his long-time friend in disbelief. Then, nearly faster than Grover's eyes could follow, he darted out of the clearing in a flat two seconds. Grover, staggering to not lose his balance from the wind of Percy's wake, was laughing a little, and then followed Percy as fast as he could.

_Thank you Hestia_, Percy thought as he spied the eight-year-old girl sitting at the hearth. Hestia smiled at him as he blew by her, and he flashed a grin in response. The eight-year-old chuckled as she spied Grover trying to keep up with Percy and failing miserably, also smiling as he saw Hestia, with a mock frown when he realized that she was laughing at Grover.

"This is why I'm not an Olympian," she said softly to herself. "I have people that actually like me instead of just trying to appease my wrath."

_Because Hope survives best at the hearth_.

**A/N:**

**Eh. Short. Angsty. I like. I also like the way I portrayed Hestia. Am I the only one?**

**I'm working on the crack fic Hermes story, kirkanalo, I promise, I just don't have the creative juices for that right now...it really sucks...**

**Also...it's weird, I've got 10 favorites on Common Enemy, and NO followers. Normally people have more followers than favorites. Any inflation of my ego is because of you people, and I thank you guys for that! (no, that's not sarcasm for once)**

**Like it? Hate it? Love it? Want to hunt me down and bash me over the head with a frying pan saying, "What were you _thinking_?!"**

**SEE YA!**

**-Winter**


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